Yesterday was the 94.7 Cycle challenge cycle race. Apparently the second largest cycling event in the world. Second, ONLY to the Cape Argus, wow. I have never thought of outh Africans as a cycling nation, but it certainly could appear to be, from elsewhere in the world. We are of Dutch decent, i hasten to add.
25 000 cyclists graced the streets of Johannesburg, and i would imagine even more support staff and supporters. Riding a course of 94.7 kilometres, it attracts everyone from world class racers to ... well people who should not be on bicycles. Every size shape and colour was there, and quite a large number in some kind of fancy dress. I saw bees, superheroes, cartoon characters, and the cows had babies!!
The CHOC cows that is. CHOC is a charity for childhood cancer victims, and they have ridden every year for a while now, to raise funds. This year ther were over 30 of them.
The day started early. Up at 3AM and dressed and ready, out into the dark morning. We, the Think Bike marshalls met at a coffee shop in Sunninghill, close to the start line. We were issued with "Route access" stickers and some basic instructions. The mood was good, steaming cupsof coffee and cigarette smoke curled in the morning air. Laughing and joking the marshalls swirled around as everyone tried to greet everyone else, an almost impossible task, but one which everyone attacked with vigour. Then we were offered the chance at a pre-race sweep. I took it with both hands, immediately gearing up and heading out of the parking lot. Only one marshall joined me, Beerygaz he calls himself on the forum, a guy on a bmw gs1200 who i've known since he started with us, we get along well together.
So off we went, the two of us into the dark. He had a bright oange light which bugged me a little, but honestly you can see him from a very long way away. Now i need to clarify something. Despite the route being just under 100km, somehow it takes an hour on a very fast bike. I don't really understand that. Our stops were short and not very frequent, usually just stopping to confirm a specific intersection with whichever foot marshalls were present.
The streets were wonderful and clean. The roads agency was still busy sweeping, and the recent rains had cleared most debris away. The start of the race was a stretch along the m1 highway. Long, wide and closed to traffic, the morning calm was broken by our screaming machines. It's a while since i've driven that road fast, and it really is a lovely stretch. Curving slowly uphill all the way to Jo'burg cbd, it was tar and rubber and crisp cold air. I left the bmw behind immediately, he would catch up soon enough, and revelled in the lonely road. My first stop was at the m2 split. I had noticed a number of cars on the road, despite the barricades, but saw the metro vehicles starting to arrive and knew that by the startof the race the lockdown would be complete. However, for some unfortunate barricade jumper was a nasty surprise! Straw bales right across the highway must have been a first for him, and at 4AM i would wager that he was half asleep and drunk, he handled the experience badly. Hitting straw bales at one hundred and something taked pieces off your car, you could tell by the wreckage he had left behind, when he realised that staying to examine the damage would also result in certain uestions being asked. Like why are you here, where did you jump the barricades, and are you, sir, drunk? Of course, bein 4AM and half asleep, he failed to consider the number plate that had also ben left behind. The marshalls, of course, were NOT amused, but thankfully no-one was hurt.
Continuing along the m2, they were laying rubber mats across the bridge joingings, for the cyclists. Up harrow road was a pleasure. A long step lefthander uphill, 2 lanes wide and over the crest of hillbrow. Past the hospital the barricades already in place, straw bales easily visible oin the dull morning light. The sky had just started to fade to grey. Up Jan Smuts avenue, a tree lined twisty road running through the heart of jo'burg's richest suburbs, we've done this road for a number of events, and it's becoming a favourite. You have to watch it though, some of those corners are deceptively sharp, and there is always the danger of leaves on the road. But wow, both lanes closed meant that i have the full road to play with, unthinkable usually. Gaz had caught up with me since the m2, and we were bith keeping up a similar pace, him slightly behind me. Breaking through into randburg we now compete for raod space with more service vehicles, the barricades are all up, that is always a concern at this eary hour. We pass fleets of metro 4x4's, as they head ou to their assigments. Of course, while they were sedately ambling along to their destination, we were ... *cough* hammering it ... *evil grin* i was out for fun.
Lane splitting is a polite endevour. What i was doing was not ... neither lane-spliting nor polite. I was shunting it, zigzagging between the metro bakkies, doing more than double the speed limit, in a commercial/residential zone. The only witnesses to my sin, those nazi's whose sole purpose is to prevent such criminal behaviour. The best part? They did nothing. We were on the same team for the day, and we were allowed to continue unimpeded.
Through the back of Randburg, up to Bryanstone, quiet suburban avenues, again wary of leaves on the roads, the tarmac was clean and dry. Still keeping up a quick pace, up Witkoppen road, a wide road, and mostly straight, a major artery for jo'burg traffic. Onto the newly tarred Hans Strydom. The new tar black in the morning light, smooth and sharp. Onto the n14. A major highway from jo'burg west to Pretoria, it has longbeen the road of choice for speedsters. Long, clean, wide and straight, it rolls through undulating hills, mostly surrounded by agricultural land. The light was much brighter now, as dawn arrived. I had been looking forward to this moment for months. On the downill onramp, accellearing as fast as my bike would carry me, 200 quickly approached. The force of air pulling against the inferno of machine.
Tyres spinning, engine screaming, the morning belonged to me. And then *THWACK*, a half form in thheadlight and sensation. The shock rippled through the bike, more than one sensation hit me almst similtaneously. I had hit .... something. I had to pull over to check. A tarantaal. A small spotted guinea fowl, it was already dead, but i had nailed it head on. No damage to the bike, only feathers and blood visible, and i didn't feel too bad since it was already demised, but i certainly woke up!!!!
Finishing the highway, we pulled onto the back roads that took us to the finish line. Also agricultural land, but smaller roads, more twisty and narrow. But well lit in the morning light, and inviting for a still careful, yet fast paced ride.
Past Kyalami, that home of speed, and suddenly we we upon the end venue area, already bustling with activity. Arriving cyclists and everyone else, a lot of traffic, all of a sudden we are jostling amongst bicycles, notorious or swerving across an entire lane in an instant, so caution is well advised!! At the start line, we give our brief report, and i discover that my start group is over an hour away.
So refilling with petrol, cleaning the vast number of miggies off my visor, and i go fall in with the troops lining the start straight, all waiting for their groups to start. We left in pairs mostly. 2 bikes to each group of cyclists. The cyclists numbering from about 50 to 200, in the professional groups up front. The "masses" were in much larger groups, but they only left later, to allow the faster riders open roads.
My group started, with me way out in front. I like to keep a healthy distance in front. Both to anticipate any problems, and to take action should i see one, but also because i'm not interested in the cyclists. They will do what they do. I'm interested in their safety, and as such every single othe person along the route, pedestrian or vehicle, that may intrude on their race track. An almost deja vu as i ride the same route for the second time that day. Much slower, i'm bored almost instantly. The m1 highway remarkably wide a 40km/h, every detail has the time to sink in, and i pay attention to the closed off onramps, wave at the enthusiastic foot marshalls, waving their flags in enjoyment. The spectators are or me the most astounding part of this day. The entire length produces a multicoloured crowd of waving shouting spectators. Strange to see people camped on the side of a highway, skottle braai, kids, dogs, all jumping and waving at the cyclists. It truly is a ciy wide event.
My ride was uneventful. Strangely though, it never matters which group i get assigned to, i always get some prat from the cyclelab toyota team driving like a dickhead. We disallow cars on th course for a very good reason, yet every race these support vehicles are the greatest threat to anyone's well being. They are arrogant and single minded in the pursuit of service to their team, and frankly aren't very good drivers either. i look forward to the day that those support cars are actually forced to remain behind the packs, instead of wherever they want to be.
The metro police were also as reliable as ever. You can asolutely rely on them to be inside their vehicles, with no awareness of anything else. Typical. They truly are the most useless bunch of assholes you could imagine. About as useful as a bucket of nails in a magnet factory, if you get my drift.
By the n14 the second time i was exhausted. I raced ahead and waited fo my group. It's a safe area, and we're not needed to maintain a clear route. By this time the various groups have merged, and are effectively strung along the entire length of the course. So i pull up at the offramp, to wait. A cigarette, a LOT of water, and a chat with some SAPS guys. I asked about the busy-ness oof their official radio (quiet they said), and they asked if my bike's feather redecoration was related to the tarantaal carcus they had seen earlier. A good comeraderie is common amongst the various marshalls, and i've always found that the SAPS guys are the best law enforcement on the day, much more so than the "traffic police" ...
The Think Bike stop was exactly halfway round the course. So after safely delivering, what i think was my group, hard to say, since the groups had so merged and stretched, i hit round 3.
I was already exhausted. 200 km on the bike, 100 fast and 100 slow. It was getting hot. So i had only one thought: get to the rest stop, food and juice, then i could tackle the masses again. Round 3 is the slowest. The wide open highway of earlier had become a maze of bicycles. Slow and fast ones, straight riders and people who i'm certain, were zagging around so much the did double the distance. It's hard riding a motorbike at 10km/h. More so when you are utterly enveloped by swaying cyclists. Hold the line, riding the clutch uphill, coasting downhill. Watching all oer at the same time, pedestrians, cyclists, ambulances, and all others who may be on the track. No wind, m heavy biker gear is starting to get steamy inside. The sweat now making me wet and sticky inside, my head getting light from the heat and bright light. I stop when some old coot and his wife are foorcing their way onto the circuit. The woman's high pitched wail sounded like an invitation to strangle and bludgeon repeatedly. I do not believe that at 11AM on a sunday morning you are really en route to a funeral. And frankly, driving in front of unsuspecting cyclists has got to be the dumbest idea i can think of. The other fight i had was an E-TV reporter. Some stupid female who truly believed a little slip of paper was reason to drive across in the 100 km line of cyclists. The arrogance was about as astounding as the ridiculusness of her demeanour. I chided her, pointing out that as a journalist, she should knoiw better. Guess i was wrong. So i happily left her with throwaway "have a nice wait".
It was also on my third round that things got busy. Cyclist crashing into each other, en masse. I had passed 3 or 4 incidents already, with the attendant TB marshalls showing that the scene was under control. But then i found new carnage. They fall so easily, and damn they fall hard! Lots of missing skin, a few broken bones.
Out at the back end of Hillbrow, just past a fairly fast and dangerous corner, someone had gone down. One lane had been taken up with a medic vehicle, so i spent time slowing the cyclists down. I was joined nthusiatically by aa woman and 2 young boys, who took great pleasure inshouting slow down and waving their arms to warn the cyclists of the impending danger. I've worked around cyclists before, and knew that donning a bright orange reflective vest, standing in the middle of the road and flapping like a panicked chicken would not get their attention. So i watched for the faster ones. Usually middle aged males with a time to beat. Not really good enough to get into the lead groups, but certainly serious enough to try attain a good time. They behave like typical cyclists, they remain still while the universe flows around them. Since they are not actually moving, in their minds it's permission to not look up. Those that add an ipod to their gear are truly suicidal.
While trying to slow these racers, another guy goes down immediately in front me. Panic stations, deal with new incident. Some guy (as above) bumped both a teen boy and another racer. The boy was NOT amused. Got patched up by the still attending medics and moved on with his race.
I eventually reached the halfway point. I fell over. Well organised, there was juice and sandwiches waiting, but why oh why was there no ICE??? Lukewarm water when you are boiling hot is as close to an insult as i an think of, but anything wet is welcomed.
Everybody was having a great day. Boerewors rolls on the skottle, big fish stories abounded, accident scenes compared and a lot of noise and laughing and joking were heard at the venue. Bikes came and went, cyclists kept on flowing past, and metro sat across the road, doing nothing, in the shade.
The time had run away, and i was able to leave. I had to fetch my daughter, and was greatful fo the bike, as now my fellow road users had changed form idiots on bicycles, ambling slowly along, to idiots in cars, who weren't in fact going anywhere.
Ahhh Jo'burg, city of a million contradictions :)
The bike ....Formerly Tarmac, rechristened Barney, what a beautiful little machine. Oops, i'm getting ahead, bikes coming up later :D
The good marshalls of Steeldale. Respect to you all. Despite all the worries, concerns, dangers and such, it went like clockwork. A well oiled machine is a beautiful thing to behold.
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